Peccatum in Praeteritum (Sins of the Past)
by CocoMingo
Summary: While juggling her nursing studies and a life more intriguing than she'd ever bargained for, Aurora Moore anticipates changes on the horizon for both her wife Maleficent, and her challenging twelve-year-old sister Tara. The impending events ought to bring the family joy, but they soon learn that even running 3,000 miles cannot shake the ghosts of their past.
1. Non Potentia Adversam Praeteritam

**A/N: Welcome to the sequel of the _Peccatum in Carne!_ I'm going to give the prologue a day or two on FF and AO3 for people to play catch up with this fic's prequel or do re-reads before posting chapter one. As always: reviews, commentary, suggestions, etc. are very appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Soundtrack:**

**"Savages," by Marina and the Diamonds**

* * *

**_Prologue: Non Potentia Adversam Praeteritam (Powerless Against the Past)_**

* * *

The drive from their home at 2763 P Street NW to George Washington University Hospital ought to only take the previously-timed nine minutes at most, but that didn't account for rush hour traffic stretching it to almost fifteen minutes in gridlock. It also didn't take into consideration Aurora's less than stellar driving capabilities, especially in the American-style SUV purchased a few short weeks ago.

Tara could count on one hand the times that her older sister had driven the thing, if she had one available. At the moment, both of her hands were being squeezed painfully by Maleficent, but Tara didn't let on that the grip hurt. She was too focused on her sister's wife, and the way that her blood colored nearly every surface of the back seat. Why was there always so much blood?

While worrying a lip with her teeth, the answer came unbidden to Tara's mind just as quickly as the question had. Amused by her aversion to blood, Aurora had always been quick to assure Tara that the smallest cuts could bleed like mad whenever she would patch up one of many skinned knees or kitchen accidents.

Maleficent let out another pained groan, and it drew her attention back to the present with crystal clarity. She sounded more like a wounded animal by the moment, and Tara swallowed the lump forming in her throat before managing to find her voice.

It shook, like her hands within the clammy confines of Maleficent's grasp. "Can't you hurry up, 'Rora? Find another way?"

Aurora glared over a shoulder, and nearly growled her answer. "This is the only way that I know, Tara."

Gripping the steering-wheel in frustration at yet another stop light, her sister took the opportunity to turn and glance longingly at Maleficent. Witnessing Aurora's face pale to the same shade as her knuckles, Tara fought the urge to shrink back against the back seat – not so much in fear of Aurora, but in fear of the prospect of what Aurora might do –

– just as Tara herself had been capable of, only a short while ago. How many minutes had it been? She shook her head and frowned, focusing back on Maleficent's hands in hers. Between pants and huffs of pain, she was whispering things repetitively. The words were odd, and Tara leaned forward in an attempt to decipher the soft pleading.

Watching the interaction through the rear view mirror, Aurora started to plead her own case. "Mal? Maleficent, talk to me darling. Please..."

When Maleficent did not open her eyes, or stop murmuring under her breath, Aurora audibly grit her teeth, and whipped back around. One hand controlling the car and the other pointing directly at Tara, she finally came unhinged.

"God damn it Tara Ann Rose, this is all your fault! She told you to stop! We could have..." Aurora stammered, eyes swirling a murky shade of violet as they welled with tears. "We would have handled it!"

Fault. That's what their lives revolved around, and the truth of it struck Tara's heart like ice, cruel and bitter. She had always felt at fault in some way since coming into Aurora and Maleficent's lives. At first, Tara had felt out of place, and at odds with everything she had ever been told about her sister's then-girlfriend.

As time wore on, she suspected that her idyllic life wasn't all it seemed – the way that Maleficent and Aurora treated Tara like spun glass, and loved her more than her mother, father, and nannies ever had combined, or how they would tip-toe a strange dance around her, only to whisper hushed mysteries at night behind their bedroom door. Tara knew that she wasn't supposed to hear, but never really understood about how _this person's_ fault, or _that person's_ actions kept her home-schooled while in England, or Maleficent from going back to teaching.

Tara hadn't understood a great many things until moving to Washington, D.C.

After five months of blissful calm here, her world had been turned on end when she finally learned all of her family's deepest, darkest secrets – from small minded, jealous classmates of all people. In turn, it had nearly shattered every ounce of trust between herself and Maleficent. She remembered being livid at not being told by the very person she had confided in, for almost every morning of the past four years.

She remembered acting out in other awful ways too, but it wasn't ever her shouting or coming home well after school had ended that seemed to cut Maleficent to the bone. It was the day that Tara had hurled the very same accusation of fault at her.

_"It's all your fault!" _she had cried, beating at Maleficent's chest with her fists, even as strong arms sought to cradle her closer. How foolish she had been. Tara hadn't known how it would cause Maleficent's eyes – once so full of love – to flare in agony before deadening to acceptance.

Those same eyes opened to stare deeply at her now, burning with fiery determination. As Maleficent clutched at Tara's hands for dear life, she appeared to be gathering every ounce of her strength left. The exchange stretched on, second by harrowing second, until her face contorted in anguish from forcing her rapid and shallow inhalations into one drawn out breath.

"Don't listen to the darkness. Don't let go, cara. Don't let go," Maleficent commanded, the strength of her gaze drawing Tara's attention away from the weaker way that the words spilled forth.

Her lower lip trembling with fear – of losing her best friend, of not being able to apologize, and of Aurora rightfully blaming her for this whole mess – Tara nodded slowly.

"I won't," she whispered, head hanging low with shame at the bold faced lie. Truthfully, Tara would have said anything to keep Maleficent holding on just a little bit longer.


	2. Bis Vivit Qui (She Lives Twice)

**Well, goodness me! The dry spell is over, and writing is back in full swing. Thank you so much for sticking with me while I battled Real Life, and I truly appreciate all reviews, constructive criticism, and words of encouragement that this story has received thus far. Much love, readers!**

**Chapter Soundtrack:**

"**Forget," by Marina and the Diamonds**

* * *

**Bis Vivit Qui (She Lives Twice)**

* * *

"There comes a time in your life when you have to choose to turn the page, write another book, or simply close it."  
― Shannon L. Alder

* * *

On a fair day, Maleficent enjoyed the half hour walk from her home to the DuPont Circle Metro Station. Less pleasant was the additional fourteen minute commute from there until arriving at Metro Center Station, nearest her office at the National Museum of Natural History. She didn't particularly enjoy being smashed between other commuters on the subway, their morning breaths hot with coffee and sleepy faces openly wondering at the person next to them. It was fourteen minutes of silent purgatory, and closing her eyes did nothing to make it more tolerable.

And yet, the twelve minute stroll from Metro Center Station and down 13th St NW to Pennsylvania Ave NW and 10th St NW made it all worth it.

While passing through Freedom Plaza, there was a breathtaking view of the Capitol building. Old men already beginning the day at the public chess boards with friends were more focused on the game than staring at her, and she could smile at their fondness without question. To be sure, it was an area congested with tourists, but Maleficent loved the idea of being one nameless person out of so many. It was just one of the innumerable reasons why she still loved Washington, D.C. as much as she did living here fourteen years before. The politicians had changed and some metro stops expanded, but large swaths of Washington having historical permanence made it a timeless city as much as one that changed.

Nearing Constitution Avenue NW and the museum, the National Mall's green splendor sprung forth to her left, along with the rear side of the Washington Monument. The early morning sun on her dark head of hair was warm, and the cooler autumn breezes prevailing off the Potomac soothed her face – the better to smooth away some of the wrinkles caused by scowling on the Metro. There were so many places to take Aurora, and Maleficent vowed that she would, if only to see her beloved amare's [1] face light up with each new discovery and glorious view. Even Tara might appreciate some of the more age-appropriate sights.

They had only been at the house on P Street NW for three weeks now, but Aurora had settled into her nursing residency program with as much grace as possible, and her younger sister Tara seemed to be adjusting well. In her own quiet way, the girl would study and size up an entire situation before making a move. Therefore, it was no surprise to Maleficent that Tara's forays into the neighborhood and attempts to converse with their neighbors' children were cautious at best. She had picked up so many of Maleficent's mannerisms in the past four years that Aurora often joked that she wasn't quite sure who Tara was anymore – Aurora's sister, or Maleficent's daughter.

_A child of her own._ This was one subject that Maleficent and Aurora had talked often about. As with most seasons of life, changes often brought about even more changes, and their move from their quiet cottage in Tollesby, North Yorkshire, England to Washington was no different. A new home, new employment, and Tara's first time at a school since before Stefan's trial meant that lazy mornings where the happy three conversed over Tara's homeschooling progress were no longer. Soon, the lovely bonding time when just she and the sprite of a twelve-year-old would snore away a few hours after Aurora had gone to class or work would be far and few between.

It being just her second day working as a Linguistics Anthropology consultant for the Smithsonian Institute's newer exhibits on Pompeii, Maleficent's mind raced to catalog all of these changes and still stay focused on her still somewhat unfamiliar surroundings. While residing as a teaching student in Washington before, she hadn't the time nor the care for dawdling about the Smithsonian's many archives and buildings, but she was resolved to learn them quickly now. The National Museum of Natural History didn't open to the public until 10:00AM, but most research employees came in around 9:00AM to avoid the rush and return home at a more reasonable hour. Into the grand foyer she entered, bypassing the ticket line to swipe her employee badge.

Through the echoing and nearly empty three story atrium she walked, her nose and eyes zeroing in on what she wanted straightaway. There was a cafe she had visited during orientation yesterday, and the promised bliss of hot tea was already calling a siren song. The same glassy-eyed barista was there as the morning prior, and to Maleficent's surprise the young woman piped up at the very sight of her.

"Hey there, Linguistics!" A swipe of the hand, and the barista reached out for Maleficent's proffered travel mug. "Extra large Earl Grey, super hot – right?"

The tone much too cheery for this time of morning, Maleficent had to admit the girl was a good actress. She thought that if only the woman could leech some of that instant pep into her tea that it would be a golden day. Then again, from the employee's age and head-in-the-clouds expression while not serving customers, perhaps she ought to abstain.

"Yes. No-" Maleficent stammered, and felt the cold chill of embarrassment creep up her neck from the mistake. "-and my name is Maleficent Moore, not Linguistics. Dr. Moore to you, if you will." Frozen in place, her mouth turned down as she mentally stamped down her rising ire.

"Sorry," the girl chirped, moving from one foot to the other as she paused to stare back down at Maleficent's badge. "I-uh, so you want tea or not?"

Pressing her lips together, Maleficent focused on taking one cleansing breath and then another before she spoke again. "Yes, I'd like some tea. Today, I'll take whatever green tea your establishment stocks that doesn't taste like grass water."

It was difficult to rein in her distaste for the weak beverage, but Maleficent's distaste for decaffeinated Earl Grey was stronger. Her hand rose of its own volition to her abdomen, and swept across it once before fisting closed and dropping back to her side. _So many changes, indeed._

* * *

The rest of the morning and early afternoon consisted of staff meetings and more introductions to people than Maleficent could possibly hope to remember. There were six hundred some odd research scientists and interns in this building alone, and her department boasted nearly fifty. However, the more specific linguistics specialty consisted of herself and only a handful of others. For this alone she was grateful. She still couldn't recall their names at will, but their faces were becoming more and more familiar as she passed them through the cubicle-constructed hallway in the third floor office area.

Her cube bare except for her travel mug half full of cold green tea, a computer, and a simple black nameplate bearing 'M. Moore,' Maleficent didn't linger. After downing a bagel with cream cheese for lunch, she walked down a short passage to log into the Research Archives Lab, and promptly lost herself in the stacks of material on loan for the new exhibit.

Since roughly two o'clock in the afternoon, she had sat on the unforgiving metal stool and peered down at slides of artifacts from Pompeii and the surrounding villages that needed translation. There was few things allowed when handling items this rare, but her notebook and pencil were. The hours flew by when she was focused, and over two sheets contained her smooth cursive. The third and fourth pages contained more hasty scrawling, as fatigue set in and her hand-drawn conjugation graphs continued on and on.

Thus far, there were the typical slides of larger marble and stone etchings and engravings, and many of them were graffiti. It might be amusing to tourists viewing the exhibit installation and even to scholars not well versed in Latin and Roman culture, but at around the hundredth slide illuminated on the light board to display something like _Auge Amat Allotenum_ (Auge Loves Allotenus) or _C Pumidius Dipilus Heic Fuit_ (Gaius Pumidius Dipilus Was Here,) Maleficent imagined that her eyes were sore from rolling them so much.

The next slide proved to be far more intriguing. It depicted a collection of jewelry in Case 3B Lot 51, which was only a few rows over from her seat. An archaeologist had annotated at the bottom: _"Southern outskirts of Pompeii, a woman of about thirty years of age. Died wearing two heavy gold armbands, a ring and a gold chain. In a handbag were more bracelets and rings, another gold chain, a necklace, and a long catena [2] of thick, braided gold. Armband engraved." _

After a quick jaunt to the case where the collection was stored, Maleficent held her breath. Could the armband have been engraved with some loving, affectionate prose? Perhaps it was dedicated to the wearer, and the archaeologist hadn't the time to decipher the early era Latin. Maybe the woman had a name.

Wriggling her hands into a fresh pair of white cotton gloves, she lifted a clear box from the stack drawer, the ancient golden jewelry compartmentalized and logged with identification numbers corresponding to the slide. This she brought back to her stool at the lab table, and opened the acrylic and felt container to reveal the two armbands at the top layer. One was most certainly engraved, though the words were small and dark against the patina.

Onto her face Maleficent slid a pair of magnifying glasses, and flipped down the +2.0 lens with a practiced ease that brought forth a flashing memory of her grandfather doing the same once upon a time.

"You know, if I didn't know that you were completely new to the department, I would think you were a seasoned expert," a gentle voice murmured from behind.

Dropping the hand holding the armband to the table in order to spin around, Maleficent glared without meaning to. It wouldn't do for her co-workers to be frightened of her or to think that she was not easily approachable, but there were definitely things that set her on edge. Being caught completely off guard was one. "I beg your pardon?" she gritted through clenched teeth, and looked down to the gentleman's identification card and back into his dark brown eyes within a heartbeat. "Mr. Holmesby."

To her intense chagrin, Ronald Holmesby smiled effortlessly back at Maleficent. Reaching up, he flicked the magnifying lens back up on her glasses, ignoring her audible squeak of mortification before adopting an apologetic slant to his gaze. "There. Now that you no longer look as if you'll turn me to stone, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you, Mal...?"

With a rapid look at her own badge for clarification, Ronald's confidence crumbled before her very eyes. "Mal... Malefi-" he attempted her name, and badly. "Aw, heck. You don't go by Mal or a nickname like that, do you?"

"Certainly not. Maleficent is how you pronounce my name, and unless you insist on impropriety, please call me Dr. Moore." Maleficent snapped back, and turned to her work. Flipping the magnifying lens back down, she lifted the armband back into her line of sight. "If you're through comparing me to a Gorgon, [3] I have work to do,"she muttered for good measure.

The scrape of metal on linoleum grated at Maleficent's ears, and she heaved a long-suffering sigh. Ronald sat next to her, and placed his hands flat against the desk. Silence stretched for a few moments as she squinted down at the gold cuff once more, flipping her lens between +2.0 and +3.0 in an attempt to read the inscription without receiving permission from the team supervisor to use any of the base solutions available in the laboratory. It would remove a fine layer of the priceless patina, and that was something Maleficent wanted to avoid at all costs.

Her left hand picked up the pencil beside the acrylic specimen box, and wrote out the first word – _domnus_. In this era, it was more common than not to drop unnecessary vowels to allow an inscription to fit the article, and she notated the modern Latin word _dominus_ next to the first. It meant owner, master of the house, or employer.

"Speaking of propriety, we do things a little different here in the United States," Ronald interrupted her train of thought with the same gentle tone he had used upon foisting himself into her workspace. With a touch more force to his voice, he spoke her name aloud. "Maleficent, I'm Ronald from Paleontology. Most people around here call me Ron, though."

Tsking lightly against her teeth, Maleficent didn't bother to look up, and logged the second word of the engraving into her notebook – _ancillae_. Next to that, she translated the term as 'maidservant' in context to the first word of dominus before giving up on ignoring the stubborn man beside her. "Do Americans also find it perfectly polite to hinder their co-workers' research time?"

"Only when they're working on the same exhibit," he countered, a nervous chuckle barking forth before quieting to a sigh of appreciation. "Jesus, you're fast."

A piercing sideways glare through her glasses at the paleontologist, and Maleficent had him on edge yet again.

"With translation, I mean!" Ronald burbled, and moved to wipe his hands onto his thighs. "You're very good."

"_Ronald_," Maleficent stressed his given name, as though it pained her to say it. It only served to exaggerate her accent, and she fought a wince. "Do shut up while I finish this."

She hadn't known the man was part of the team, and struggled to find a way to bridge the gap that her fear of affinity had created. The Pompeii exhibit was still in the stages of infancy research-wise, so she would need to smooth things over., but the mild teasing would have to suit today. Maleficent still couldn't bring herself to be kind after her first impression of Ronald was what she considered to be an invasion of her personal space. Even so, his graying black hair flopped to and fro, and the fossil specialist was skinny and awkward. All in all, her mind declared him as non-threatening, and utterly annoying.

Bobbing his head once, Ronald gulped so deeply that his Adam's apple bobbed as well. "Sure, sure," he agreed, and looked on patiently.

The last word engraved on the cuff was _suae, _and Maleficent dropped her pencil as soon as she had committed it to paper. "His," she whispered, and laid her index finger softly against the word. Trailing up to the previous translations, the finger began to tremble. By itself, _suae_ was an innocuous Latin term relating to possession of a noun to the subject of the sentence. In tandem with the two other words on the finely wrought gold, it meant something far more specific.

Brows furrowing in concentration, Ronald studied the notebook, and then looked to Maleficent. "What was that? What did you find?"

"Owner. Maidservant. _His._" she repeated quietly, the bagel from lunch suddenly sitting like a rock in her stomach. "The cuff is a symbol of ownership; a gift from a master to his slave girl."

Ronald shrugged, and whistled low. "On such a piece of jewelry, she must have been a favorite of his. Probably a sex slave, or courtesan. The price for such a bauble..."

"A slave," Maleficent was quick to clarify. "Courtesan is an entirely different word – _meretrix_."

The previous excitement at what she thought to be a great find collapsed in great waves of unease, and Maleficent moved to carefully place the cuff back into the specimen box. Her entire hand shook softly as a glove covered thumb caressed the thickly filigreed edge in tender respect. She thought on the kind of life that this woman had experienced, and looked away with a sharp breath through her mouth. It certainly wasn't unusual to come upon the topic of slavery in her studies of the Romans and their language, but to actually touch something so intimately related to the subject was more than sobering.

"This is excellent," Ronald assured her, the excitement she had left behind only moments ago finding its way to him. "If we find out more about her, the team might be able to assemble a part of the exhibit dedicated to the woman, as long as we pitch it right."

Widening her eyes in surprise, Maleficent still tried to understand. Could they bring honorable remembrance to the slave girl, one thousand nine-hundred and thirty-six years later? "Pitch it right...?" she questioned.

"Yeah! The cuff alone must have cost the master a pretty penny, let alone the engraving. She was well taken care of, and he must have wanted people to know that she was off limits." His hands moving to imitate presenting a one-of-a-kind treasure, Ronald waggled an eyebrow. "It's such an extravagant gift from someone to their chattel. I'll bet he loved her, Maleficent. Can you imagine? Lovers! One the master, and the other his slave girl..." he rambled.

The more Ronald went on, the higher Maleficent's lunch rose in her gut. She rose from the lab table so sharply that her stool toppled backwards, and hit the floor with a crash. The noise startled her enough that she screeched, and the paleontologist stopped his daydreaming instantly to reach forward.

"Jesus, Maleficent. Are you okay?" he asked, concern flooding his eyes to drown the excitement within seconds.

Rolling her gloves off in a hurry, Maleficent found that her mouth wouldn't cooperate to answer. She shook her head vehemently, and clapped a hand over her mouth as she rushed out of the research laboratory and into the hallway.

Down the passage she ran, her heels clicking loudly against the light marble floor as she searched in vain for a door with a restroom sign above it. She heard heavier footfalls behind her, and the panting breath of someone unaccustomed to the chase. It only made her run faster.

Just as bile rose to her throat, a ladies' room appeared to her right. Skidding her feet to slow herself, Maleficent threw both hands forward to push at the door, and went straight for the first stall. While her stomach betrayed her, shame and loathing coursed through her veins. Hugging the cold enamel of the toilet to anchor herself, Maleficent retched. Tears coursed down her cheeks in traitorous evidence of her lack of control. How in the world could she show her face again after such a display on her second day here?

She waited, attempting to collect her composure before thinking of some way to return to her cubicle undetected. If anyone asked, she would just have to say it was spoiled food. Surely, everyone had the shared experience of food poisoning. If not, they had certainly heard of it.

Shuffling out of the stall, Maleficent groaned in relief that no one else had been in the rest room while she was. She rinsed her hands and mouth thoroughly, and patted her cheeks clean from any trace of tears. Hair tangled from her flight, she ran a hand through it and stared deeply into her own eyes in the mirror.

"Don't fuck this up," she warned. "_Do not_ do this to me."

Once her shuddering stopped, Maleficent held her head high, and tugged at the front hem of her suit jacket with a harrumph. Exiting the rest room, her eyes scanned the hall for any signs of life.

Most unfortunately, a pale Ronald stood just across the rounded pathway. He wrung his hands a few times before nudging his chin at her. "You... You got sick? I heard-"

"My lunch didn't agree with me," Maleficent cut him off curtly. "I'm fine."

Even more unfortunate was Ronald's apparent inability to take a hint. "I'll help you back to your cube then," he decided aloud, and reached an arm around her back in an attempt to guide. "It's very late – nearly seven thirty."

Swiftly launching herself into a brisk walk, Maleficent avoided his touch as tactfully as possible. "If you insist."

"Yeah. Isn't that what guys are supposed to do?" an undeterred Ronald shuffled quickly to gain on her, and slowed his pace only when he was at her side.

Maleficent felt her face contort into a sharp, humorless smile. "What, insist?"

"No!" Ronald exclaimed, a bit too loudly. His head craned around to make sure that nobody had been disturbed by his outburst. "Men help," he sought to clarify, quiet as a church mouse.

At that statement, Maleficent threw her head back and laughed. It echoed coldly, along with Ronald's confused chuckles that accompanied it.

* * *

When Maleficent finally crept through the welcoming red door of her home, she rolled her neck and shoulders. It was nearing eight thirty at night, and only a few lamps were on. Tired feet carried her in the direction of the kitchen, the beckoning noise of humming and water running setting her on auto-pilot.

At the entrance to the gray and white tiled room, she paused to lean against the jamb, her eyes drinking in the glorious sight of Aurora swaying side to side in front of the large farmer-style sink. Her wife still wore nursing scrubs, though a cooking apron had joined the bland navy blue uniform. Supper must have already been served since Aurora was busy washing up, but that didn't bother Maleficent in the least on this night. Tara usually showered just before bed, and so it was just them in this peaceful moment.

Maleficent found the presence of her Aurora – her amare – more comforting than anything in the entire world, and felt the stresses of the day slowly melt away. They didn't rush to greet each other, but instead basked in the instantaneous contentment that they were each safe, and here. Serenely, Maleficent made her way over to the sink, and stood waiting.

Peering upwards, Aurora's doting blue eyes conveyed a thousand words as she shut off the tap. She spoke only four after sliding an arm around Maleficent's waist to envelop her in a hug, but they were just as full of love.

"Welcome home, you two," Aurora whispered, her cheeks pinking with delight.

* * *

Footnotes

1 Amare – (Latin) Maleficent's nickname for Aurora in the 'Peccatum' modern universe, first used in Peccatum in Carne. It roughly translates to "(my) love."

2 Catena – (Latin) a type of heavy, rope like jewelry chain.

3 Gorgon - (Greek) The Gorgons were three monsters in Greek mythology, daughters of Echidna and Typhon, the mother and father of all monsters respectively. Their names were Stheno, Euryale, and the most famous of them, Medusa. Although the first two were immortal, Medusa was not. Medusa was also not considered the child of Echidna and Typhon, but of Phorkys and Keto. Their faces were ugly and their hair was replaced by snakes; anyone who would gaze into their eyes would be turned to stone instantly.


End file.
